Chapter 30 The Stones Are Siblings #2
Familiar gray stones splattered with lichen and heather appeared in the space where the wall had once been.
The stones slotted neatly into place, forming an arch-shaped casement that opened directly into a room both bizarre and familiar, for it was none other than her old sitting room.
Within, staring at her from two chairs—one, which was squashy and stitched in a pattern of feathers, and the other, which was thin and covered with a collection of coins—sat her parents.
The moment Demelza saw them, they leapt up from their seats.
Araminta gasped and dropped her needlework. “Demelza! You’ve found a way home!”
“My darling girl!” said Prava, sniffing and dabbing his eyes with his sleeve.
Demelza stared at them. They were only a few feet away, as if she were sitting across from them in her old seat by the fireplace.
She could not see it from her vantage point in the dormitory room, but she could imagine the old settee not far from her parents.
The settee was carved from rosewood, covered in green velvet, stuffed with Araminta’s golden hair from her brooding time and embroidered by Demelza and her sisters with their names stitched in their favorite colors.
Euphemia’s name was in burnt orange; Eulalia’s in scarlet; Evadne’s was dark blue and Eustacia’s was light, while Dulcinea opted for yellow and Corisande chose magenta and Demelza, as always, went for green.
Even though she could not see the old settee, Demelza felt the raised letters of her sisters’ names and imagined the small hole in the cushion where her mother’s gold hair poked out like a thread of sunlight.
She was so close to home and so far from it, and she felt the glow of the life she had left behind as if she was returning to the warmth of a fire after a long day in the cold.
“What did I tell you, my love!” said Prava happily. “All is forgiven! Araminta, you made such a fuss over a sacrifice, but I knew she’d understand!”
“Understand?” said Demelza, outraged. “Am I so utterly expendable to you that I’m worth more as a corpse than a child? Because I refuse to be sacrificed, Father, even if it means you might finally love me as much as your other daughters!”
A shocked silence descended between the two rooms, and Demelza realized she had gone a step too far. Prava’s happy sniffles turned to the gasping breaths one took when trying to suppress a sob.
“Demelza!” said her mother shrilly.
Prava looked stricken. “Is that what you think?”
“Oh, Father, I’m sorry—”
“I’ve never been so wounded,” said Prava, flopping into his chair with his hand on his heart. “Demelza, I would not love you any less if you refused to let me carve out your heart in pursuit of immortality. Surely you know that…”
“I know…” said Demelza, grudgingly.
“The more I’ve thought about it, the less appealing immortality sounds if my own family shall not speak to me anymore,” said Prava.
“And though I thought perhaps I could make my next project all about resurrecting you, the damage will be done. Your sisters might decide to have offspring and they’d be so mad at me, I’d never get to see my grandchicks …
there shall be no holidays … it is all too much to bear. You believe me, don’t you?”
Demelza sighed. Her father was a monster. But he did love her.
“I believe you,” she said.
“Although to be absolutely certain, I take it this means you do not want to be a sacrifice, yes?”
“Yes,” said Demelza.
“Yes you’ll let me carve out your heart?” asked Prava, excited.
Demelza frowned. “No.”
“Well, that settles it!” said Prava cheerfully. “Even if you’d said yes, I would not love you more than I do now. My love for you and my desire for immortality are completely separate.”
Araminta tried to touch Demelza, but an invisible barrier rebuffed her. It seemed that only Demelza could make the choice to return.
“Now that you’re home, how about you pick the dessert tonight, dearest?” said Prava, grinning so widely that the firelight caught on his fangs. “Honeyed aphids? Frozen cream with chunky beetles? Whatever you wish!”
“I’m staying where I am,” said Demelza.
Prava frowned. “What?”
Demelza thought of the library wyvern and the way the fog of Hush Manor playfully curled around her ankles. She thought of her books and her favorite tea mug, the comfort of her own bed and meals with her parents … all things beloved. All things missed.
But then she thought of the splendors of Rathe Castle, the thrill of conversations …
the dimple in Arris’s smile. The way he had held her close when he kissed her.
He had promised her safety in return for her talents, but if safety was no longer a concern, why did she find herself tethered to the spot?
“You want to stay,” said Prava, rising suddenly from his chair. There was a knowing glint to his eyes. “These trials you have been participating in for the prince’s hand … you mean to complete them in earnest.”
“Don’t be silly, Prava,” said Araminta. “Demelza knows better than to—Daughter?”
Her parents looked at her as if they were seeing her for the first time. Weeks ago, Demelza might have cowered beneath their gaze. But now she lifted her chin.
“Demelza, come home this instant,” said Araminta.
Demelza did not even hesitate:
“No,” she said. “The prince and I have an arrangement. I will not be coming home … not yet. I hope you can understand. Please know that I love you both very much.”
“Araminta, I think she … I think she likes the boy!” said Prava, panicked. “My dear, don’t you know what could happen if you fall in love? You could—”
The moment Demelza withdrew her hand, her parents faded from view. At first it was like viewing them from behind a pane of frosted glass. Seconds later, the stones turned opaque and Demelza was alone.
But not for long.
One door might have shut, but another swiftly opened. Darkness—sinuous, velveteen and inextricably alive—poured into her room and announced:
YOUR TURN STARTS NOW.